Defenses Up, Defenses Down
by Miss Graphic T-Shirts
Summary: I was stronger than this. I was made of steel... he wouldn't be my kryptonite... he wouldn't break me down. Or so I thought. This is the story of me and Beck Oliver... and how what I thought I never wanted, soon became all I wanted.
1. Prologue

**Disclaimer: I do not own anything related to Victorious or Bade whatsoever... sadly.**

* * *

That tan skin.

That smile.

That black wavy hair that was practically begging for your hands to run through it.

That relaxed personality.

That… everything.

It all belonged to the one, the only, and the depressingly unattainable Beck Oliver. Beck was the kind of cool that other guys could never touch or match up to. He didn't realize the influence he had on people… didn't realize how high he was on the social ladder. He was the kind of person you always wanted to be around. It was almost like he was a living, breathing drug. One hit was never enough.

Sadly, I hadn't been lucky to get that one hit.

Yet.

Compared to Beck, I was what one might consider… a sore sight. My appearance put off most people… dark hair, dark makeup, dark clothes, dark nails… he held the air of cool, I held the air of monster. And if the appearance didn't put them off, my attitude most definitely would. Not that I didn't like it that way… in fact that was the way I had always wanted it to be. Connecting with people wasn't my thing.

Especially with Beck Oliver.

I wouldn't let myself fall for him. I wasn't some little girl about to go falling in love for the tan-skinned, wavy-haired charmer.

I was stronger than that.

I was Jade West. I had been through hell and back more times one could count. I was basically made of steel… not human flesh and bone. And not anyone, not even Beck Oliver, would be my kryptonite.

At least…

That's what I thought.

But then it happened.

The night of October 19th… the night when my entire world turned upside down.


	2. One: Boy Meets Girl

The words continued to ring in my ears over and over again like that annoying ringtone that no one likes, but it stays stuck anyways because it was so bad.

_"You can rest assured Jade, that you are never welcome back in this house."_

_ "Never welcome back…"_

_ "Never welcome back…"_

"Hey lady! Move up!"

"Don't tell me what to do." I spat back as I stepped forward in line and got my order of coffee and paid the cashier, not responding to their all too cheerful chitter chatter of thanks and come again.

What was there to be thankful about?

I had absolutely nothing. The money in my wallet would soon be exhausted by my never-ending need of coffee. I was lucky my parents were keeping me in Hollywood Arts… for now. Depending on how long this freeze-out lasted, I could wind up at the public school 10 minutes down the road, or not going to school at all. As for getting a job? Well work wasn't really my thing. Bosses don't tend to hire gothic teenagers with an attitude problem who was currently homeless.

My phone had been inside the house when I got kicked out, therefore it still sat at the house, most likely never going to be touched again. I looked up at one of the various signs displaying time and then picked up my pace slightly. While I still had school in my small realm of possessions, I would at least attempt to make it there on time.

* * *

However, despite my fast walking, I still ended up coming in just after the late bell had rung.

"Jade, how nice of you to join us." Lane said when I walked in.

"Sure is." I grumbled.

"Rough morning?"

"You could say that."

"Want to…"

"No."

He sighed and then pointed down the hall. "Get to class."

I walked to my locker, sticking my coffee inside and grabbing my textbook before walking to my first of many classes that day. Another ordinary day going back… with only one difference.

I had no home to go back to when the day was done.

It went on like this for about two weeks. I went to school, went to a coffee place to do homework, and then found a random place to crash for the night. I was getting down to the very last of my money and the parents still refused to take any calls from me. Pretty soon I'd be done for. I needed to do something… and since I couldn't get hired, I took up a different approach.

I sang.

So then the routine became that I went to school, went to a coffee place to do homework, and then found a random street corner and started singing acapella whatever came into my head. I left my coffee cup by my feet and people would drop in a bill or two, sometimes a five if I was lucky. If I sang for two hours, I got enough money to last me through the next day, and if the fates were really on my side, sometimes the next two days.

I picked areas not trafficked by the privileged kids of Hollywood Arts. I didn't need them talking about me behind my back. Truth was, they probably did that enough already… no need to add ammunition to their cannon.

But one day, that plan failed.

Epicly failed.

I sat on the stoop of an apartment building, singing a random song off the radio, when a shadow came over me, blocking the sun.

I stopped singing and looked up. "Can I help you with something?" I asked sarcastically.

"You go to Hollywood Arts." The boy standing over me stated rather than asked.

"Maybe. What's it to you?"

"I've seen you around."

"And?"

"Why are you out here?"

"None of your business. Who are you anyways?"

"Name's Beck." He said, extending his hand.

I stared at it, then ignored it.

"Well," the boy named Beck said, "break a leg."

He held up a crisp ten dollar bill in between his index and middle finger and then stuffed it into my coffee cup before nodding his head at me and walking away.

I stared after him for a moment, unsure of what to think, and then even though I needed the money, I took his ten dollars out and left it on the stoop where I sat, and then picked up my cup and moved two blocks in the opposite direction he had walked.

Someone else could take this Beck boy's charity money.

* * *

I continued my singing routine for another two weeks. Everything usually went pretty steadily, but in the past few days, people had been running dry on me. I was lucky if I got five dollars tops, and I had to stay out later if I wanted to make enough to last me for the next day or two. Some nights I ended up staying out until the early morning, not crashing until anytime between midnight and three.

Yeah, I know. Singing out on the streets of California at three in the morning? Doesn't sound too smart. But who ever said I thought things through?

I was running out of places to go, so half the time I ended up going to a 24 hour diner and surviving on adrenaline and coffee. I don't think I'd had a decent night's sleep in days. But I kept singing. I wasn't going to give up. As long as my parents kept freezing me out, even longer would I keep going.

I didn't need them.

I didn't need anyone.

Then that night, things took a turn for the worst. It was sometime around one in the morning and I sang out in this somewhat sketchy part of the neighborhood. It wasn't overly sketchy… but just enough to give you the chills up and down your arms. I sang quieter than usual, only because I didn't want to wake anyone in the apartments and get kicked off the curb.

Just as I finished a song, a guy, maybe in his early 20's came up to me.

"Pretty voice." He said with a head nod.

"If you think it's so pretty, stick some money in the donation cup." I replied, not wanting to deal with his guy. I could smell the beer on his breath even though he was a good few feet away.

"Oo, feisty. Feisty, pretty, sexy lady." He said, moving to play with the ends of my hair.

"Touch me and you die." I threatened.

"Whoooaaaaa," he laughed, "sexy lady is getting crazy!"

"You disgust me." I grumbled. "Go drink some coffee or something. You reek of desperation."

"Now that," he swallowed, "is not cool."

"Whatever."

"You really should apol-apologize to me."

"No thanks."

"Say it." He said, his voice slightly stronger now.

"Uh, no?" I said, picking up my money and getting ready to walk away, but he grabbed my arm, his grip tight.

"Say it!" he yelled loudly.

"Okay, dude, I'm sorry, just let me go!" I said, trying to wrench my arm free, but he held on even tighter.

"I don't think so, little feisty. I oughta show you how you really apologize for words in my house."

The guy made a crude gesture and I cringed. "Do you want the money or something? Fine, take it, just let me go."

"Oh I'll tell you where you can go, sugar." He said, spinning me towards him and wrapping his other arm around me and holding tight. It was barely possible to breathe let alone get free, no matter how much I kicked and struggled. He just continued to tighten his grip and drag me towards one of the apartments up the street.

So I resorted to using the word I hated most, because there was nothing that I wanted less than to be in this guy's grasp.

"Help!" I yelled. "Someone HELP ME!"

The guy threw his hand over my mouth, and I tried to bite it to make him let go, but it was no use. Even when drunker than a sailor, this guy wasn't going to let up. Spots started to swirl before my eyes. I couldn't catch a breath anymore. His grip was too tight and everything was too hot, then too cold. It was like I could feel the life draining from me… each breath not taken bringing me another second closer to unconsciousness

Just then, I felt another pull, another tug, and then I was free. I choked on the air entering my lungs and I started to cough and heave as the tight grasp of the guy with the beer on his breath was replaced with the gentle arms of someone else.

"You'll be okay." The person whispered. "I've got you."

And that was the last thing I remembered before falling deep into the welcoming black..


	3. Two: Boy Treats Girl

I didn't remember how I got to the place I was when I woke up, all I knew was that it hurt to take a deep breath… like, it _really _hurt.

"Holy… mother…" I gasped, gripping the sheets of the mattress I was laying on. "Sweet beans, that hurts."

"Shh," a voice said. "Take it easy there."

"Why does… why does everything…" I clenched my teeth and dug my nails in to the sheets again, "hurt?"

"You've got some pretty bruised ribs. Hate to break it you, but you're going to be in a lot of pain for the next few days." The voice says.

"Where am I?"

"At the moment? You're laying on my bed, gripping my sheets like they're the Holy Grail."

"Not… funny." I snapped. "Who are you and where am I? Take me…" but my voice fell out. The word 'home' dried up on my lips. I didn't have a home anymore. My family didn't want me.

I didn't have anywhere to go.

"Take you…?" the voice inquired.

"Nowhere. None of your business." I said, turning my head to the side so that I got a lovely view of the wall.

The voice stayed silent for a minute and then I heard footsteps come over and then I felt the mattress sag underneath someone's weight.

"Lift your shirt."

I snapped my head around. "Ex_cuse _me?!" I said. "Who the hell do you think you are?"

The voice belonged to a boy with tan skin and dark wavy hair, probably around my age if not a tiny bit older. I could tell by the way his lips were that he was biting back a laugh. He held up two plastic bags full of ice.

"Don't worry, I'm not being a creeper, I swear. But you need ice on your bruises if you want them to heal, and it's best if the ice is in direct contact with your skin."

"And you know this…?"

"I've read a few books in my lifetime… seen some medical television." The boy shrugged. "And I've had a few trips to the emergency room in my time."

I pursed my lips and slowly reached and tugged up the hem of my shirt, looking away from the boy. I didn't need to see the reaction that I was almost positive would come.

Then I felt a chill come over my body, and it wasn't the kind you get from ice being on a bruise. I felt the boy's finger tracing lines on my stomach.

"Looks like you've been marking some time." He replied simply.

"I'm not proud of it." I admitted quietly. "And I'd appreciate it if you stopped looking now."

The chill from his touch was replaced with the chill from ice being laid across my bruises. I already could feel the tender black and blue skin of my bruises refreshing itself and coloring itself back to normal.

Now if only the ice could do that to my scars.

"How long do I need to keep this ice on?" I asked.

"Few hours. Until it melts. Then I'll get you some new packs."

"And you expect me to just stay here?"

The boy turned his back to me and then reached into a small fridge and grabbed a drink. "I'd feel better if you did. So I can… keep an eye on you."

"I'm not a child. I don't even know who you are."

By the boy's posture I could tell that this news somehow shocked him. Made him uncomfortable in a way.

"I beg to differ." He said after taking a swig of his drink. "We've actually met before I um… took you here."

"Oh really?" I said, my voice dripping with sarcasm. "I feel like I would've remembered meeting you because…" _Because you're clearly the most attractive boy I've ever seen in my life_. Those words didn't make it past my lips either, however.

"Because…?"

"Because I have a photographic memory and I don't remember seeing your face somewhere before."

He turned around. "Well, I remember everything about the day I met you."

I blinked. "What?"

"I remember every single detail of the day I met you." The boy replied. "In fact, you were wearing the exact same clothes you are now. You were sitting on the corner of Heraldson Boulevard and Johnson Avenue on the steps of an apartment complex. You were singing 'Viva la Vida' by Coldplay. You had a cup of coffee next to you that had some bills stuffed inside it. I handed you a ten dollar bill for singing. I also recall you saying that you go Hollywood Arts."

My breath hitched in my throat, and not because it was painful to breathe. The boy took a step forward.

"Remember me yet?" he asked.

"Beck." I said quietly. "Your name is Beck."

"That it is." He replied.

I looked around a little bit more. "You live in an RV?"

"Parked in my parents' driveway." He shrugged. "Their roof, their rules. My roof?"

"Your rules." I finished. "Gotcha."

"However, while you know my name… I don't believe I know yours."

"Would you believe me if I said it was Ursula Handybottom?" I said with a raised eyebrow. "It was my grandmother's name."

Beck cocked an eyebrow back. "You're funny. But I think we both know that a beautiful girl like yourself was graced with a different name than Ursula Handybottom."

"Don't call me beautiful." I said.

"So you want me to lie?"

"Perhaps."

"Lying's not really my style."

"What do you want from me?"

"At the moment, I'd like to know your name." Beck said, putting his knee up on a chair and leaning his elbows on it.

"Jade." I finally replied. "If I had friends, they'd call me Jade."

"Well then Jade…"

"Who said we were friends?" I interrupted.

He stared me right in the eyes for a minute and then broke into a smile. "I do." I blinked again a few times and then he came over and brushed my hair back from my face, which typically, I was extremely averse to. However, when Beck touched my skin, it felt like it was both on fire and being drenched in arctic cool water. It felt… insanely right… more right than I would ever admit out loud. "Get some sleep, Jade."

And then he flicked off the lights in the trailer, leaving me breathless in more ways then one.


End file.
